The Target Mystery
by Moonspun Dragon
Summary: A cross over between Holmes and Poirot. *DISCONTINUED*
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello. This story will be interesting, especially with the characters I have chosen. To allay confusion, I will post whose POV it is before the chapter. I hope you will enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anybody even remotly related to Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot.

Warning: There may be some OOC on the affiliations with Poirot, please bare with me. I do not know Poirot and friends as well as I do Holmes and his. The rating may go up to T later in the story. Thank You!

Chapter 1: Watson's POV

When I walked into the sitting room of 221B Baker Street, I saw Holmes darting from the mantel piece, to the bookcase, to his archives on the opposite side of the room.

"What is it, Holmes?" I asked.

Holmes stopped in the middle of the room and looked at me, a slightly confused look in his eyes. Then he shook his head. "I forgot. You wouldn't have known."

He went to his desk in front of a window and picked up a newspaper. Holmes handed it to me and said," a Chief Inspector Japp from Scotland Yard has asked me to help him in a jewel theft case."

"Chief Inspector Japp? I haven't heard of him."

"He has just recently been appointed Chief Inspector. Lestrade, apparently thinks of Japp as a threat. The new Chief Inspector does, I confess seems a bit smarter than his colleagues." Holmes answered with a slight smile.

I raised an eyebrow. "Lestrade probabaly has at least a dozen imaginary rivalries with half the officers of Scotland Yard. Would you like me to go with you?"

"If you would be so good, Watson," Holmes said, as he continued his packing. "We meet with the Chief Inspector tomorrow morning at the dock."

I looked at him ruefully, then dashed off to pack.

End of Chapter 1

A/N: Please tell me what you think. :D


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hi, this is obviously chapter 2. Please enjoy. :D

Disclaimer: I d not own anything related to Sherlock Holmes and Poirot.

WARNING: There may be some OOC with Poirot and his friends. Please bare with me. The rating may go up to T later in the story. Thank you!

Chapter 2: Hastings' s POV

"Ah, _mon ami_," Poirot said, "I was beginniing to think you were not coming to meet Chief Inspector Japp and his guests with me."

We were vacationing in Poirot's home country, Belgium, and the hotel we were staying, for nearly a week, when the thefts started and Scotland Yard was called in.

I hid a yawn. "Sorry, Poirot, I thought I heard someone tapping and noise from the pipe."

I saw Poirot's attention drawn to the door off to the side while I had been talking. I followed his gaze and saw three men making their way toward us. One was Chief Inspector Japp, the other two I did not recognize.

"What were you saying, Hastings?" Poirot asked.

Before I could answer, Japp had reached us. While Poirot and Japp greeted each other, I studied the two strangers.

The first one was tall, probably around six feet, had slicked- back black hair. He had a grey hawk- like gaze, which held a sharp intelligent look. His gaze had rested on me momentarily, then moved on to Poirot almost with a bored air.

The second man was slightly shorter than the first. Unlike his friend, he had a more open face, but was obviously no half- wit. His hair was a light brown that was loose. He had blue eyes and a mustache. His own gaze wasn't as sharp as his companion's, but it held a softer intelligence than his friend's.

'Poirot," Japp finally said. "May I introduce Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his associate, Dr. Watson."

End of Chapter 2

A/N: I truly hope you have enjoyed this. I'm sorry it is a little short. in my notebook (shocker) it came out to nearly 3- and- a- half pages. Thank you for reading. :D


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello, I'm back. I sort of hit a writtier's block on a future chapter and kind of forgot about it. I hope you will enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot, except the characters I have created in this story. ;)

WARNING: There may be some OOC with Poirot and his friends possibly with Holmes and Watson as well. Please bare with me. The rating may go up to T later in the story. Thank you!

Chapter 3: Watson's POV

I shook hands with both men as the penguin- looking man said, "_Monseur_ Holmes, _Monseur la Doctor _Watson, I am Hercule Poirot and this is my friend Cpt. Arthur Hastings." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the corner of Holmes's mouth twitch, betraying his satisfaction.

"Monseur," Holmes acknowledged Poirot, then looked at Hastings. "I'm glad your leg has healed properly."

Hastings blinked in surprise. I watched him, amused. "How did you-?"

Holmes just smiled at him with a patience, that comes from explaining his gift often. "The way you were standing when we approached gave me the first clue. You seemed to favor one leg. Now your weight has shifted evenly on both legs. Therefore your injury was not that long ago, since you are still limping slightly, but you have completely recovered since."

"Amazing."

"Elementary."

Holmes looked at Japp. "Were the thefts comitted in one room?"

"No. The hotel has individual safes in their customer's rooms, therefore there were multiple thefts. Come with me." The four of us followed Japp out of the dining room and through the lobby.

"Monseur Poirot, have you looked over the room?" Holmes asked, as we started up the stairs to the first floor.

"_Oui_, the safe is open there were no fingerprints on it," Poirot informed us.

"I have also found a knife with a broken tip half- hidden underneath the bed," Hastings added.

This stopped Holmes. "A broken knife?"

"Yes, we think the safe was pried open with it," Japp said.

"_Non, non_, Chief Inspector, you think it was used wto do the prying," Poirot corrected.

Holmes said nothing untill we reached the most recent victim's suite.

End of Chapter 3

A/N: I have a question to put to you: Would you like to see the story from Holmes' or Poirot's POV as well as Watson's and Hastings' POV , or do you like it as is? Please tell me what you would prefer. I hope you enjoyed reading. :D


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I had hit a writter's block so I am sorry I took so long. I hope you enjoy. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot, except my victims and villians. :D

Chapter 4: Hastings' POV

Arnold Roger's room had paintings of landscapes that covered most of the four walls. The fourth had two floor- to- ceiling windows, that were covered with rosy- colored curtains. As soon as we entered, Holmes immediately went to the safe, which was still open partially, and examined the catch and the locking mechanisims.

"What was stolen?" Watson asked.

"A gold watch and a saphire set of jewelery that contained a necklace, bracelet, earrings, and a ring for Mr. Roger's wife," Japp said, reffering to his notebook for references.

Holmes looked at Poirot, who had wandered to the fireplace on the left side of the door we had come through, and asked, "What was the exact position of the knife?"

Poirot moved to the foot of the bed, and said, "The blade of the broken knife was beneath the bed, as was most of the handle."

"As if someone had kicked it during a scuffle?" Watson asked.

"Perhaps, Monsieur Le Doctor," Poirot said.

Holmes nodded thoughtfully, as he studied the carpet that lead to the bed. He stood once he reached the end of the bed. He, then examined the bed itself. I looked at the doctor, Watson returned my look with a shrug. I returned my attention to Holmes, who had just finished his examination of the carpet and turned to us. "Where the other thefts like this one?"

"Very similer, but there was one or two minor differences that made them appear to be the work of a copy- cat," Japp answered.

"What were the differences?" Watson asked.

"In the first theft, the picture of that the safe was hidden behind was left ajar. In the second theft, the safe was unlocked and there was a piece of cloth caught on the catch. Now, the safe was left open and a broken knife was found under the bed."

"A cloth?" Holmes asked, slowly. "Have you matched it to any of the servants or guests?"

"No, not yet," Japp said.

"I would like to see it," Holmes said, after a second of silence.

Without waiting for a response, he left the room.

End of Chapter 4

A?N: I really hope you have enjoyed reading this. I kinda hit a writter's block on chapter five, which will have a new perspective. Thank you! :D


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey! This chapter is pretty much a pivotal chapter in the sense of how the style of the story will go. Enjoy. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot. Except the victim(s) and villian.

WARNING: There may be some OOC with Poirot and his friends and, in this chapter there may be some OOC with Holmes.

Chapter 5: Holmes' POV

I left the others standing and stood in the corridor, considering the facts. This case was certainly more interesting than the other cases which I had been apealed to for help.

The others came out a almost immediately after myself. I let the Chief Inspecter lead and fell into step beside Poirot, who was immediately behind Japp, with Watson and Capt. Hastings behind us.

Japp lead us to a room similer to the one we had just left, but with minor changes. The color scheme was different. He crossed to where a constable was standing beside the hotel safe.

"Open the safe," Japp commanded.

The constable snapped to attention and quickly obeyed the order. Japp reached in and withdrew a peice of black cloth. He handed it to me and I started to exaimining it. Faintly, I heard Japp's, Watson's, and Hasting's conversation.

Eventually, I handed Watson the fragment during a lull in their not- too- informitive guessing game. "What do you make of it, Watson?" I asked, casually.

Watson looked it over and said, somewhat hesitantly, "It looks like it tore off a maid's uniform."

"Oh, Watson," I sighed, "Is that all you see?"

He handed the cloth back, slightly irritated. "What do you see, then?"

Instead of answering, I looked the cloth over again, then turned to Poirot and asked, "What do you think?"

Poirot returned my gaze. I knew he thought as I did. "Probably the same as you do, _monisuer _."

"Which is what?" Waatson asked again.

"Perhaps nothing," I responded. I handed it back to the Chief Inspector, who put it back in the safe and locked it.

I looked back at Poirot and said, "_Moniseur_, I would like to talk to you outside." Poirot inclined his head and followed me out the door.

End of Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry about Holmes' and Porot's OOC I'll try and do better as the story goes on. I hope you enjoyed it. :D


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: **PLEASE READ!** AS you know this story has been discontinued. This is not a new chapter, but a preview of what another author, **Mikel Midnight**, has written. I have given my permission for him/her to use whatever from _Target. _The next two chapters are what they have come up with for a different story of their own. Please read and enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. (Literally, this time. :p)

**The Target Mystery Chapter 6: Jo March's POV**

Jo March paced about the small room restlessly. She had seen death in her life, both her beloved sister Beth as well as her late husband Fritz, but the worlds of crime and violence were new to her.

Arnold Roger had lacked Fritz's keen intelligence and ready wit, but he had been kind to her, and understanding of her desires to be a writer. As a widow she had discovered a new form of loneliness, and Arn's presence had been easy. He was generous as well, gifting her with antique jewellery and trips overseas after their wedding.

She shivered, though the room was not overly cold, and looked out the glass window. Belgium had been thrilling to explore, but now she wished for nothing more to be returned home. The luxurious hotel Arn had picked out turned out to be ill-fated: first the series of thefts in which his gold watch, as well as the sapphire set of jewellery which included the necklace, bracelet, and earrings which Roger had given her as a wedding gift, in addition to her engagement ring.

She particularly adored the odd necklace, with its antique charm which resembled a small sword, in which was rolled a tiny parchment with almost microscopically small writing in what may have been an ancient Welsh dialect. It had put her in mind of tales of knights both good and evil, and ladies held captive in perilous castles, but now what may have been a new fictional journey for her had become a captivity all too real.

She had tried calling out the window, had screamed for help until her throat was hoarse, but no help had come to her. "Oh Mother, Oh Father, Oh Meg," she choked out, and slumped down on the small bed in the room. Her eyes began to tear up again, and she wiped at them angrily. Come on Jo, she thought to herself, you're no whiner.

She picked up her chair and tried to use its legs to hammer at the window. It took a couple of blows, before she was rewarded with a satisfying crack in the glass. She paused, essaying her work, before resuming again to finish the job. She almost didn't hear the door open behind her.

She gasped, and whirled around, her back to the wall. Two men entered the room … the older, carrying her stolen necklace in his hand. He held it up, his eyes darting between charm and her. "Good day, Mrs. Roger," he said. "I am Doctor Septimus Pretorius, and this is my associate, Doctor Heinrich Frankenstein. I think it's time we had a little chat."

* * *

A/N: If you have any comments, either PM** Mikel Midnight,** or review and I'll pass along the message. :) I hope you enjoyed. :D


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: **PLEASE READ!** AS you know this story has been discontinued. This is not a new chapter, but a preview of what another author, **Mikel Midnight**, has written. I have given my permission for him/her to use whatever from _Target. _This next chapter and the one previous are what they have come up with for a different story of their own. Please read and enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

** Chapter 7: The Monster's POV**

"It's going to be a terrific storm," Pretorius announced, eyes heavenward. Lightning flashed through the skies, as nature itself seemed to announce its objection as the bandaged-wrapped body, strapped onto its mechanical platform, was raised slowly through the skylight.

Frankenstein looked at the dials which were attached to sensors on the female form above. "My God, you were right," he said. "Whatever it was used for originally, that ancient bauble seems to be energizing the body … the electrical impulses in the atmosphere are actually registering inside its nerve endings."

"Release that woman!" A third voice is heard is the room, and the two scientists are startled by the appearance of a pair of intruders in their laboratory: the speaker was tall and lean and hawk-like, the other shorter and rotund with a waxed moustache. Both of them were carrying handguns. "You must cease this profane madness," said the other man.

Pretorius blinked. "Who dares?"

"Sherlock Holmes, at your service," he said, his voice dripping anger and sarcasm, and this is my compatriot, Hercule Poirot. Release Mrs. Roger now before we are forced to fire on you."

Frankenstein and Pretorius looked at one another, and the former nodded. "We are done, and shall do as you say. Although I believe you will be disappointed … the woman who was once Jo Roger is now something much grander."  
As the platform began to descend, Frankenstein eyed the two men warily. "How did you find us?"

"It was elementary," Holmes said. "You had used an antique scalpel of German manufacture to pry open the safe. Moreover, you left behind a piece of your jacket … a wool and weave which is sold primarily in Ingolstadt."

"Your grand-père's reputation preceded you," Poirot continued. "It was nothing to determine where you had located yourself … and where you had taken poor Mrs. Roger."

Pretorius began to remove the bandages from the creature's face, and the now-revealed eyes focused clearly on him. "She's alive! Alive!" Frankenstein shouted in his excitement. The two scientists tilted the platform so that the feminine figure was upright. Her face was severe but had an eerie beauty; only some of Jo March's features were recognisable in it. Her hair rose up over her head darkly, streaked with white.

"What monstrosity is this?" Holmes asked, taken aback.

"The Bride of the Monster," Pretorius replied, and for the first time the two detectives took note of the grotesquely tall figure standing in the shadows in a corner of the laboratory.

Poirot cursed, his gun alternating back and forth between the scientists and the new arrival. "I had thought it only fiction … ou le Prométhée Moderne," he said quietly.

The monster began to lurch towards the new creation. "Friend? Friend?" he asked, his craggy face expressing an innocent yearning. He was rewarded only by a shriek from the Bride, who although newly born regarded his grotesque features as horrifying.

The Monster scowled, "She hate me. Like others." He roared his fury, and began to rage about the laboratory, massive fists striking out at the equipment.

Holmes and Poirot fired at him, and he responded with pain, but that only served to increase his rage. Following some destructive instinct, he headed towards the lever which controlled the shutoff to the laboratory's cooling system.

Frankenstein shouted out, "Look out! The lever!"

Pretorius' voice took on a pleading tone. "Get away from that lever. You'll blow us all to atoms."

The Monster looked at the two detectives, somehow sensing their innocence. He beckoned to them and Frankenstein, somehow unable to kill the man who shared lineage with his creator. "You live! Go!"

Poirot turned to Holmes, "We can't leave Mrs. Roger, we can't."

Holmes scowled, as an alarm siren began to emit a shrieking sound. "I don't think there is anything of the original Mrs. Roger left." He took Frankenstein by the shoulders and began to hustle him out.

The Monster beckoned to Pretorius next. "You stay! We belong dead!" As flames began to flicker about the laboratory, weakening the beams which held the building in place so that it began to crumble around them, he reached out and took the Bride by the wrist, who responded by recoiling and emitting a snake-like hiss. "We belong together," he said, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss.


End file.
